Morning sunlight spilled gently across the Arcelion home, turning the wooden floors to gold.
It was not a heavy morning.
Not the kind weighed down by dread or sorrow.
It was full—like a deep breath held just a little too long, right before a long journey begins.
Lucien tightened the straps of his travel pack for the third time.
Inside were neatly folded clothes, preserved rations, sharpening stones, a small blanket, and—tucked between layers—a simple charm Elena had slipped in when she thought he wasn't looking.
He had noticed.
He hadn't said anything.
Seris leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching him with a familiar smirk.
"You packed everything," she said, "except your sense of coordination."
Lucien didn't look up."I have coordination."
"You tripped over your blanket ten minutes ago."
Lucien paused.
"…That was a tactical error."
Seris snorted.
Across town, Elaira adjusted the strap of her elven-style travel bag.
It fit her perfectly.
Her packing was precise—potions cushioned carefully, spirit-threaded cloths folded with care, books secured tightly together so they wouldn't shift no matter how long the road stretched.
Her movements were calm.
Measured.
Ready.
Behind her stood Sylwen Moonveil.
Radiant. Serene. Silver-gold hair cascading like moonlight made tangible. Despite appearing no older than her early twenties, she carried the quiet dignity of someone who had lived twice that—someone who had endured.
Sylwen reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from Elaira's cheek.
"You've grown beautifully, my little moonpetal," she whispered."Your journey begins now. Walk it with grace."
Elaira smiled softly.
"I will, Mother."
Elsewhere, Rogan's home echoed with heavy footsteps.
He hoisted his massive pack onto his shoulder—a burden heavier than Lucien's and Elaira's combined.
It didn't slow him.
It grounded him.
Beside him stood Garron Hartvale.
A mountain of a man. Broad shoulders. Thick arms. A beard that made it seem like he had been carved from stone rather than born of flesh.
And yet—
His voice was gentle.
"You've done well," Garron said, placing a steady hand on Rogan's shoulder."Protect them. That's all I ask."
Rogan nodded once.
"I will."
By late morning, the three converged at the Arcelion household's front lawn.
Packs secured.
Spirits steady.
Hearts loud.
Elena stood in the doorway, hands clasped tightly together, smile brave but eyes bright with unshed tears. Darius stood beside her—arms crossed, posture firm, gaze warm with pride.
Along the fence stood familiar figures.
Sylwen Moonveil—serene as moonlight woven into silk.
Garron Hartvale—solid and imposing, smiling quietly at the sight of the trio.
Elaira bowed respectfully.
Rogan crossed his arms, trying very hard to look casual—and failing completely.
Lucien took it all in.
Home.
Family.
The place that had shaped him.
Darius stepped forward.
"Well then," he said calmly, "today you leave for Swartzville. Tomorrow, the journey toward the Tower begins."
Lucien inhaled slowly.
Elaira brushed her charm for luck.
Rogan adjusted his pack higher.
Elena's voice trembled just slightly."Take care of yourselves. And of each other."
Sylwen placed a graceful hand over her heart."May your spirits guide your steps."
Garron nodded."And your courage carry you far."
The trio exchanged a glance.
Then Lucien stepped forward.
"Let's go."
Three steady steps.
The road opened—
"Hold on."
Lucien stopped mid-stride.
Darius raised a hand.
"There are… two—no, actually—three more things I need to say."
Rogan froze.
Elaira blinked politely.
Lucien sighed."Father… please don't give a lecture now—"
THUMP.
Something inside Lucien's bag moved.
Lucien stiffened.
"…Did something just—"
The bag burst open.
"TA-DAAA!"
Seris popped out, arms stretched triumphantly, nearly knocking Lucien flat on his back.
"SERIS?!"
"You were—inside my bag?!"
Rogan stared."How long were you in there?"
Seris brushed dirt off her sleeves."Long enough to question my life choices."
Elaira tilted her head."That was… unexpectedly impressive."
Lucien whirled on Darius.
"Father. You let her do this?!"
Darius scratched the back of his neck."Well… she insisted. Something about 'expanding our merchant guild's northern branch' and 'essential field experience.'"
Seris smirked."And someone has to supervise you children."
"I'M EIGHTEEN!"
"So am I," Seris replied sweetly. "Your point?"
Laughter rippled through the group.
Even Garron failed to hide a smile.
Sylwen laughed elegantly behind her hand.
Darius cleared his throat.
"Anyway—that was the first thing."
He stepped closer now, voice gentler.
"The second thing is simple."
His gaze moved across all four of them.
"You're stronger than you believe."
Lucien felt warmth bloom in his chest.
"But strength," Darius continued, "is responsibility."
His voice hardened—not cruelly, but firmly.
"Do not use your Spirits to intimidate the weak.Do not grow arrogant.Do not abandon your morals just because the Tower tests them."
Rogan nodded without hesitation.
Elaira bowed her head.
Seris saluted dramatically.
Lucien straightened.
Darius smiled… then paused.
"And now for the third truth."
The air shifted.
"You have every right to feel unsure," he said. "But remember this—your parents once stood exactly where you stand now."
Lucien frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Darius gestured to Sylwen, Garron, and Elena.
"We were adventurers once. A party of five."
Lucien's breath caught.
"We climbed the Tower together."
Silence.
"You… climbed the Tower?" Lucien whispered.
"To Floor Twelve," Darius confirmed.
Sylwen nodded.
Garron crossed his arms proudly.
Elena smiled softly, eyes distant with memory.
Lucien's jaw dropped.
"But Father—you're so strong. Why didn't you climb higher?"
Darius laughed—a deep, genuine laugh that shook the morning air.
"Oh, Lucien… the Tower is far more difficult than you think."
Lucien swallowed.
Elaira's eyes gleamed.
Rogan stood taller.
Seris muttered, "Well. That explains everything."
Slywen added.
"Well, I guess you do have one thing to worry about."
" What is it?" - Rogan asked immediately.
"Elaira's Cooking"
Said Slywen with a grin.
Everyone laughed.
Elaira simply pouted.
Darius stepped back, lifting his hand in farewell.
"Well then," he said, smiling,"all four of you… go to Swartzville."
Lucien turned toward the road.
This time—
He didn't hesitate.
And with that, the journey truly began.